


The Birth

by elceri



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elceri/pseuds/elceri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn greets the birth of his first child with trepidation and doubt, but Gimli helps restore his faith in Legolas, himself, and their future.</p><p>
  <em>"Proud fool," Gimli muttered, stalking along as fast as his short legs would allow. "Should never have let him continue on this quest. You never should have let him join us to begin with!" He gave another accusatory look to Aragorn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Had I known he was with child, I might not have!" Aragorn snapped, stabbing his walking stick into the ground and continuing on, watching Legolas's back ruefully.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birth

**Author's Note:**

> First published in 2003 under a different pseudonym that I can no longer use. The work is mine, and if there are questions, please contact me.

"Sit down. You must rest!" 

No response.

"Make him rest!" A cuff to the side followed the more insistent command, in an attempt to get the Man's attention.

Aragorn looked down at Gimli, fatigue apparent in his eyes, although his jaw was set and he betrayed no further emotion, especially the trepidation the Dwarf might have expected in such circumstances. "If I could make him rest, don't you think I would have?" he replied curtly.

"If he had the slightest respect for you as--" Gimli began again, but he was interrupted.

"We just rested at the stream," Legolas replied with barely a glance over his shoulder, striding ahead with grim determination, although the strange strain to his voice was apparent. His fair, smooth skin shimmered with sweat, and although he walked at his normal pace, it was not without great effort. "I am fine, both of you. Resting will not make things any better, and the longer we delay, the more the danger to Merry and Pippin grows."

"Proud fool," Gimli muttered, stalking along as fast as his short legs would allow. "Should never have let him continue on this quest. You never should have let him join us to begin with!" He gave another accusatory look to Aragorn.

"Had I known he was with child, I might not have!" Aragorn snapped, stabbing his walking stick into the ground and continuing on, watching Legolas's back ruefully.

They continued to make their way in silence--Aragorn swore he could hear Legolas's heavy breathing, which was remarkable since one could normally not hear an Elf breathe even if he strained to do so. They had not encountered any Orcs since entering the forest, so the anticipation of first contact, combined with the urgency of their companion's condition and the prospect of what was happening to Merry and Pippin, had heightened the tension to nearly unbearable levels.

"What that fool thinks he is proving with this, I know not," Gimli muttered, still scowling at Aragorn. "Running as though he hasn't that belly, and as though he hasn't spent the past twenty-four hours--"

"Labor does not make one deaf," Legolas had stopped suddenly and turned, gazing at them both darkly. "I believe I know best what my body is capable of, and Aragorn as well should know that I am quite aware of my limits."

Aragorn said nothing, turning his head in chagrin to stare in the direction of Isengard. It was too distant to see, but he felt as though it cast a shadow great enough to fall over the entire land, although in reality, it was the canopy of leaves above filtering the rapidly setting sun.

"And so why do we stop now?" Gimli asked, his voice decidedly derisive. "Surely we have a good distance we can cover before nightfall. Any steps we can take are that many steps closer to the Halflings."

"Because," Legolas said, turning his gaze until Aragorn could feel it upon him. He looked up, and their eyes met. "It is time." Aragorn fought down myriad, almost violent reactions to that announcement, gritting his teeth and forcing a nod. Gimli grunted and wandered a short distance away to gather firewood, averting his gaze from the pair out of respect. 

There could be no objections; Aragorn knew how it would be. Worse, there was nothing he could do about it, despite the misgivings and uncertainties roiling in his heart and mind. "I'll see you in the morning, then?" Aragorn whispered, unable to control the emotions in his voice.

Legolas nodded, moving closer to Aragorn and taking his hands, placing them on the rounded swell of his belly for a moment, staying near him to draw strength for what was to come. Aragorn gently rubbed, the movements soothing his soul even as he sought to comfort Legolas and their child. He was careful only to touch as guided by Legolas, not wanting to upset him at this sensitive time by taking too many liberties with his hands.

The Elf closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly and savoring the feeling, keeping his hands on top of Aragorn's. It would be last time he would feel Aragorn's touch in this way, and he regretted that they could not have spent more time together savoring the wonder that they had created. Instead, he had kept silent as he felt his body change to accommodate the unexpected miracle as they journeyed from Rivendell toward Mordor. He had paid it little mind as they faced the dangers in Moria and on the treacherous mountains, his thoughts instead always with Frodo and the important task at hand. He had trusted his body to do its job and care for its precious charge and it had, until the point had come--recently--when he could no longer hide what was happening to him from Aragorn, and had to in many ways finally face the reality fully himself. 

The discussion had been painful and left them both a bit numb, but as with Gandalf's passing, there was little time to sit and contemplate what had happened--they had been forced to simply accept it and carry on. So they had, stealing moments in the night when Legolas was on watch and Aragorn couldn't sleep for the Ranger to slide his hands beneath Legolas's tunic and feel the pronounced, yet remarkably small, swell that had become conspicuous only as of late. Only after the breaking of the Fellowship did they share their secret with Gimli, who had insisted Legolas not go on at all but stay by the river to give birth. Aragorn, however, would not leave the Elf, and Legolas refused to have them all wait until the time was upon them, lest they completely lose track of Merry and Pippin. So had they come to this time, and Aragorn knew that Legolas must move soon, or else night would be upon him before a suitable place could be found. 

Legolas, hesitant to linger further, looked up at his troubled love, whispering softly in his language that he must go. Aragorn nodded and leaned forward, lightly kissing his forehead. Legolas then drew away. "Your child grows anxious," he said quietly, smiling slightly in an obvious attempt to reassure. Aragorn attempted to return the smile, but found it almost hurt. He squeezed Legolas's hands one last time, then dropped them reluctantly. He felt Gimli's hand on his elbow, squeezing it reassuringly as they watched Legolas wind his way gingerly through the trees, eventually disappearing into the deep of the forest, alone.

* * *

The silence was deafening, and Gimli could scarce bear it. "You'll not hear him," he warned the Man, who sat sullenly next to the fire, jumping at every rustle of leaves as though they might be a sound from the laboring elf.

"I know," Aragorn sighed, leaning back against a tree forlornly. "He's far from here."

"You knew this was coming," Gimli chastised him, lighting his pipe with an ember from the edge of the fire. "You've known it for several weeks at the very least, yes?"

Aragorn just nodded. "I don't need another lecture from you," he growled. "It has grown tiresome."

"Watching you waste your time wishing the Elf you took for your own would act more like a Man grows tiresome as well," Gimli retorted.

"I do no such thing!" Aragorn hissed, narrowing his eyes at the Dwarf. Gimli, however, did not flinch, and merely regarded him with a steady gaze. 

"So you deny it?" Gimli needled, taking no pity on the Man, despite his tired, defeated countenance.

"Yes," Aragorn replied, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. "I do deny it. In my years living in Rivendell, there were many births, but a man with child is a rarity. It is only through Legolas's guidance and a few remembered stories that I know what I do. I know what will happen, but that does not make it any easier for me."

"He does not share his experience with you," Gimli remarked.

"Nay, we shared many things," Aragorn protested again, growing irritated that Gimli felt as though he could suppose so many things about Legolas, simply because their iciness toward one another had thawed to a burgeoning friendship. "It is an intense and harrowing experience for any Elf, but for a male it is much more so," he simply said. "The condition is often painful, makes one's body hyper-sensitive and disagreeable, to the point where it is unbearable sometimes to even wear clothing." Gimli gave a snort at that, and Aragorn again shot him a look of contempt. "Where do you find humor in any of this?"

"In the suffering of a pregnant male? I find no humor," Gimli replied, tugging at his beard a bit. "I find humor in the fact that you can recite to me these facts, yet you have not accepted them yourself."

"Explain," Aragorn demanded, keeping his gaze fixed on Gimli as he reached back for his water skin. He took a drink while the Dwarf stroked his beard in thought--he was trying to conserve his water, but found it difficult tonight, compulsively sipping at the thing for lack of anything better to do.

Gimli opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and considered his words further. "How shall I put this to you," he mused, finally seeming to arrive at a satisfactory answer. "You focus on the ordeal that carrying this child has placed upon Legolas, and the ordeal that he is going through at the moment," Gimli began, scowling when Aragorn interrupted him.

"Laboring unassisted, alone in the wild, no shelter, no comfort--"

"Let me finish!" Gimli roared, and the leaves seemed to shake in response, although it was just the wind stirring again.

Aragorn glowered, then snatched up a stick to prod at the fire.

"Not all pain is suffering, Aragorn," Gimli finally said, in a sincere attempt to be gentle, capping the words with silence. He watched for some reaction from his companion, but when there was none, he sighed and continued. "And not all hardship is suffering, either. Sometimes pain is welcomed, and hardship is gladly endured, because of what it brings forth." He raised a bushy eyebrow at Aragorn, who sighed again, burying his face in his hands. Gimli shook his head, moving over to the other side of the fire and clasping the Man's shoulder. "It's not your nature, but take joy in his pain. Take pleasure in the strain you have caused his body, because that is your heir he has worked so hard to carry to this day. Take pride in all that he has endured, for he has endured it for you, and he has endured it alone because he believes it is how he best shows his honor and love for you. Why can you not give him those things, which he desires most, after all he has done and is doing at this very moment for you?"

At those words, Aragorn raised his face from his hands, looking at Gimli, a wave of relief palpably washing over him. "Which he desires most," he echoed the words quietly.

"Of course he desires it! Do you believe for a moment that you could force Legolas Greenleaf to do anything he had no desire to do? Could you force him to take on such a great burden and responsibility in these perilous times? Just as his honor and pride made him choose to join our Fellowship, so did his honor and love for you lead him now to make the choices he has made. Do not mourn! Rejoice in it! Honor him!"

"You're right," Aragorn conceded, breaking into a rueful smirk at the triumphant grunt those words elicited from his companion. "He would not be pleased to hear I spent the evening fretting over him. He would believe it meant I doubted his strength."

"So you know him after all," Gimli mused, going to his bag and pulling out a flask. "Here. Drink. I've saved it for a special occasion, and this seems to be one."

"It is, isn't it," Aragorn chuckled bemusedly, taking a long drink of the strong stuff, wincing as it went down.

"If that doesn't distract you a bit, nothing will," Gimli quipped, taking the flask and a long swig himself. Aragorn chuckled, wiped his mouth and turned his gaze to the fire to avoid looking at Gimli, because he was both incredibly grateful and a bit embarrassed at his behavior.

"Thank you," Aragorn finally muttered.

"It's nothing," Gimli dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I'll not have to watch you mope any more, and I'll not have to listen to Legolas complain about you any more. I win twice over."

Aragorn nodded, and then realized what Gimli had said. "Listen to Legolas what?"

"Have you discussed names?" Gimli abruptly changed the subject, smirking at Aragorn's outrage to that revelation and saying nothing further about the private conversations held during midnight watch with a grouchy Legolas, who had felt cosseted by Aragorn's concern. The Dwarf had resigned himself to the fact that the longer he was with the pair, and the longer they were romantically involved -- especially now with a child - - the more complaining he would hear. It would be like traveling with his sister and his friends, from his youth. He shuddered and quickly shook that thought from his mind.

"Nay, we have not," Aragorn replied, quickly forgetting his anger. "We'll discuss it once we know the gender of the child, and its nature... and of course after Legolas has recovered..."

"Mmm," Gimli grunted, drinking again, "and that could take--?"

"Possibly days," Aragorn replied, taking the flask and drinking again as well. "It will all depend on his condition when he comes back--whenever that is." He sighed wearily and poked restlessly at the fire. He was keenly aware--as was Gimli--that they did not have days to spare.

The Dwarf nodded, raising no objection, since it was he who had been petitioning so fervently for Legolas to rest to begin with. He knew that he would soon grow restless with the need to continue on their quest, but would practice restraint, as well as practicing restraint in inquiring exactly how they were to continue to Isengard with a newborn. There would be time to ask questions later. "Rest, Aragorn," he said, motioning to the ground. "You'll need it for his return. I'll keep watch."

Aragorn moved to protest, but could not muster the will to do so. He wanted to sleep, if only to make the hours until Legolas's return pass quicker. He spread his cloak on the ground, laying his head on his arm and closed his eyes, finding that sleep came as a quick blessing. 

* * *

"Aragorn! Aragorn, rise! Someone approaches!" Gimli nudged Aragorn again with the toe of his boot, finally eliciting a reaction.

"Is it he?" The groggy Ranger ask as he shook off the fog of sleep, grabbing his sword and standing.

"It could be," Gimli said. "It is not my place to approach if it is--"

Aragorn did not remain to hear Gimli's reply, as he sprinted toward the approaching figure, knowing it must be his Elf. The Ranger slowed as the figure neared, and when he realized it was indeed Legolas, he gasped at his condition.

Legolas approached slowly as well, walking with his usual determination, yet not with the same strength and vigor. His face was paler than normal and his steps were unsteady, as though one strong gust of wind would knock him over. Aragorn rushed to him, reaching his side in a moment. "Legolas!"

Legolas looked up, his dark eyes glassy, obviously in great physical distress. "Aragorn," he whispered.

"You shouldn't have come back so soon--" Aragorn began to protest, feeling guilty at the thought that his worry in the days and weeks leading up to the birth might have influenced Legolas to return before he was ready.

"I came back when I wished," Legolas snapped, startling Aragorn. Aragorn said nothing else--despite the feeling that Legolas's true motivations for returning involved Merry and Pippin--instead moving quickly to the Elf's side and wrapping an arm around him for support. The movement caused Legolas's cloak to open, revealing a sling wound around his body, sagging with burden. Aragorn gasped at the sight, and Legolas looked up at him, nodding.

One arm still supporting Legolas, Aragorn reached down with the other, pulling aside the sling to peek in and take sight of the child within. The infant boy wore no clothing, as Legolas had not intended to swaddle him as Men do their children, and his pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark fabric of the sling. His body was relaxed with sleep, and he held two fingers in his mouth, which along with the rest of his features were distinctly Elven. His head lolled to one side as he slept, and it was topped with a delicate smattering of dark hair.

The sight was nearly Aragorn's undoing, and it took all of his willpower to refrain from falling to his knees and weeping with joy. Instead he kept it all close to his heart, taking care with Legolas as he escorted him back to the camp. When they reached the clearing, he saw that Gimli had taken it upon himself to construct a small bed of soft branches and Aragorn's cloak, to which he now guided Legolas. They settled him down, and Aragorn tentatively reached into the sling to remove the baby, so they could arrange him properly.

"Go on," Legolas whispered, moving his hair so Aragorn could untie the sling. "He's your son as well."

Aragorn felt that strange swell within him again and fought down the lump in his throat as he pulled the baby up, cradling him in his arms. He was light, and incredibly small, as he had heard children borne of male Elves tended to be. Upon being in unfamiliar arms, the infant opened his eyes, which were wide and dark, staring up at Aragorn inquisitively. "So much like Legolas," he whispered, tracing a callused finger hesitantly along the soft, velvety skin, almost afraid he would hurt him, despite the fact that he had already survived dangers far greater than the caress of his father's fingertip.

"Babies are like Elves," Gimli said gruffly, rising up on the balls of his feet to have a look at the boy. Aragorn proudly turned his arms downward to give Gimli a better view, certain he was beaming like a fool. Gimli took in the baby, then looked up at Aragorn pointedly. "They're tougher than anyone gives them credit for."

Aragorn smiled a bit and nodded, taking those words to heart. He then noticed that despite his exhaustion, Legolas was intently watching every move they made. They shared a meaningful gaze, and Legolas's need to have the child he carried for so long near to him was suddenly agonizingly clear to Aragorn. He knelt beside the exhausted Elf and laid the baby down in the spot Gimli had prepared, close to the comforting scent and warmth of Legolas's now-bare chest. Aragorn remained in that position, as if in prayer, gazing down at them both reverently. He was certain that he looked a sight for the unbridled love pouring from him.

"You too," Gimli then said, motioning to the ground next to where Legolas and the baby lay.

Aragorn felt no need to protest, and knew that Gimli would be itching for something to do, so sentry duty would suit him fine. He lay down, gazing into the bleary eyes of his love. "Why do you fight sleep?" he whispered to Legolas, leaning gingerly over the precious gift that Legolas had given him and kissing his lips gently.

Legolas returned the kiss with tired lips, whispering, "Because I want to gaze upon your face for as long as I can." He reached over, touching Aragorn's cheek with trembling fingers, a sensation both tender and unnerving. "I have never seen such joy... such love..." He smiled weakly.

"You will see it from this day on, I swear it," Aragorn said, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips. "Rest now, please-- I will be here when you wake. We both will."

Legolas nodded drowsily. "Those days are for the future," he whispered, his fingertips lightly, possessively caressing their son. "The messenger from Rivendell approaches to take him to safety with Arwen, until we return from our quest." There was a distinct catch to Legolas's voice, and Aragorn knew that giving his own precious flesh and blood to the hands of another, no matter how sensible, was no easy thing for Legolas to do. Aragorn struggled with the prospect himself, especially in light of the great possibility that one or both of them might not live to see him again. Legolas, however, had spoken with Arwen at length about doing so long before Aragorn even knew he was to be a father, and they had reached an agreement on what was to be done. 

Aragorn had given his heart to Arwen, but he could not deny his love for Legolas as well, a love Arwen was well aware of. An elf's heart is gracious and has room enough for more than one love, and this Arwen epitomized with grace and discretion. She loved Aragorn, and she loved Legolas as well, in her own way. Legolas had later told him of the guilt with which he had informed Arwen of his condition, and how she had kissed his forehead and assured him that she bore him no ill will. She had promised whatever assistance she could give with the child, which was a true blessing, since Legolas's masculine impulses outweighed any maternal instincts pregnancy might have aroused in him, and he had boldly pledged himself in Fellowship with the other Eight. He had figured that Nature would guide his body in nurturing the child, and had thought no further on it. 

They both would owe Arwen a great debt upon their return, both for her understanding and her generosity, because it was Arwen who had made clear to Legolas that the path that lay ahead for him with the child was not nearly so easy. She had guided him in his mental preparations for the birth, and Aragorn knew that they had developed a close bond through those preparations that he had been hitherto unaware of. 

In some ways, Aragorn was jealous of this communion of his two loves, but he knew that Arwen had only their best interests in mind, and could not fault her for that. Indeed, the more he pondered it, the prospect of a special, sacred love shared with both Arwen and Legolas, forged through their son, warmed Aragorn's heart and filled it further with hope

But as Legolas had said, those were thoughts for the future, and Aragorn intended to savor each moment in the present, while their nascent family was still together. Legolas's hand soon stilled, resting lightly upon the baby, exhaustion having finally overwhelmed him to the point that his eyes even sank closed. Aragorn could not so easily give in, and instead he allowed his gaze to wander between Legolas and their son, watching their expressions, seeing the weariness plainly in Legolas's every feature, something that looked so foreign on him. Eventually he closed his eyes and just listened to them breathe in unison, unable to even think about giving the child up yet. It would be pain, and it would be sacrifice, but as Gimli had said, it would be a sacrifice made of love, and in that case one gladly made, just as Legolas had done in giving him life.

Gimli must have figured them all asleep, because Aragorn heard his footsteps shuffle near, and felt another cloak, a Dwarven cloak, draped over the three of them in addition to the Elven one that already covered them. "Rest well, lest you lose energy for your fighting," the Dwarf said with a bemused chuckle. Aragorn cracked his eye open a little when he heard Gimli's footsteps come over to their heads, watching him curiously as he leaned down over between them and touched the baby's forehead, whispering, "You'll keep them in line, won't you?" The baby yawned and stretched a little, giving a soft gasp before settling down again. Gimli smiled sadly, and Aragorn let his eyes slip closed again as the Dwarf rose to his feet. 

"What times you have ahead of you, little one," Gimli mused, turning to continue his watch. The forces of Sauron continued to gather, and darkness lay ahead, but all that lay in those makeshift blankets was light and hope. Gimli gazed upon them one last time, whispering almost reverently, "Sleep well, son of Legolas and Aragorn. Sleep well."


End file.
